


Anywhere, With You

by quartetship



Series: Snapshots [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"... it hadn't even felt like a move, so much as a move forward."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere, With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hachidorikun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hachidorikun/gifts).



> Part four of my one shot series from tumblr. This one was a birthday gift for Hachi!
> 
> This work - and the rest of the series - is also dedicated to the fantabulous folks of the Twitter Squad, who I wouldn't be posting my writing without the support of. (And whose commentary on poorly written commercial fiction keeps me motivated...)
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> \--

"Smells good in here."

Jean backed through the door of their tiny apartment with an armload of groceries, his keys clenched in his teeth. He spat them onto the kitchen counter and laid the bags beside them; Marco only slightly cringed when he leaned in for a kiss.

"Thanks for picking those things up" he said, batting Jean away after a moment with the back of a sauce stained spoon. Jean laughed as he dodged the prodding and settled his chin on Marco's shoulder to peer over at what he was cooking.

"No problem. Now are you gonna tell me why you're making such a big deal out of dinner tonight?" He grabbed a half empty bottle of vodka sitting beside the small stove and examined it, then looked back at the pot of sauce bubbling on the burner in front of Marco. "There's booze in the food?"

Marco sighed, but it sounded suspiciously like laughter. "It's vodka sauce, Jean. So yes, there's booze in it." He stirred the mixture and glanced up at clock on the wall, nodding as he spooned a bit of it out to taste. He smiled in pleasant surprise and Jean couldn't help but mirror him.

"Sounds fancy" he chuckled, watching Marco dig through the grocery bags. Marco shook his head as he grabbed a package of pasta and turned back to the stove.

"Not really, just something I thought you might like." He lit another burner and sat a large pot of water onto it, and then turned back to face Jean with a beaming smile. "But we _do_ have something to celebrate tonight."

"And what's that?" Jean's lips twitched upward at the corners. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, waiting. Marco almost _danced_ across the few feet between them and wrapped his arms around Jean's neck, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

"I got a call from the realtor today."

Jean pulled back to look him in the eye properly, and he could already see the promises there. Picking fixtures and painting walls, a yard to mow and a garden to tend, more room than they'd ever had and plans to fill every inch of it with the life they'd created, together. It was all there, unspoken but strikingly visible in Marco's eyes. Jean laughed to keep his throat from closing.

"We're getting the house."

They said it at the same time, and Marco nodded excitedly. Jean wanted to shout, to jump up and down and laugh until his lungs gave out, but he knew the downstairs neighbors would report them - _again_ \- if he did. Realizing he wouldn't have to deal with them much longer made it almost worth risking, but he settled instead on pulling Marco against him and burying his face into his shoulder.

"That's... Marco, it's..." He could barely form sentences, but Marco seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say. Jean knew it was because he felt it as well - the surreal realization that they were going to have a place of their own. The permanence and safety it represented brought his mind comfort that he scarcely felt deserving of, and he wondered if Marco felt that, too.

"It's ours" Marco said simply, and Jean recognized the hitch in his breathing. They stood with their arms wrapped around each other until it was gone, and he let out a long, slow breath that ended in a quiet laugh. "Probably won't feel real for a while" he chuckled, and Jean nodded.

"Or ever. It's amazing, though. It's... God, a real house, Marco. Our house."

"Our _home_ " Marco smiled, and Jean felt his throat tighten again.

"Might miss this place a little bit though, honestly. Not the neighbors or the asshole landlord, but just... this was our home first, y'know? We moved in here right after the wedding, and... I don't know, aren't you gonna miss it at all?"

"Maybe just a little" Marco agreed, and reached out to wipe at tears Jean hadn't noticed on his own face until then. "But the house is gonna be great. And home isn't about the building or the city we live in. I'm at home anywhere, as long as I'm with you."

Jean knew he was right; they'd lived in nearly a dozen places between the two of them since they were kids, and every single one had been home, as long as Marco was present in his life. When they'd moved in together for the first time - into Jean's atrocious first apartment - it hadn't even felt like a _move_ , just a move forward. He thought about the multitude of steps they had taken to get to that moment and the many more that were on the horizon along with the promise of their new house. The knowledge that Marco would be beside him for every single one was enough to shake any uncertainty; he threaded their fingers together and placed a kiss on the finger where Marco wore his ring.

"With you" he repeated, and tilted his head upward just a bit to kiss Marco's neck, his jaw and finally his lips, smiling when Marco's parted against his.

Lost in the thoughts of their past, their future and in each other, everything else was forgotten. Forgotten, until a loud hiss from somewhere behind them jolted them back to reality. Marco's blissful features stiffened in shock, and he turned on his heels to where the abandoned food was still bubbling away - spilling over the edge of pots and scorching as it splashed onto the sizzling burners.

"The food!" Marco shouted, trying to fan the smoke and steam away as he pulled the pans from the heat. His hand snapped back on reflex as he lifted the searing hot pot of burnt sauce, and it turned upside down as it tumbled to the floor. He stared in shock at the mess - dark orange sauce splattered on nearly every surface of the kitchen - with his mouth hanging open, speechless. It was all over his shoes, his clothes, even his face, and he was beginning to blush red enough to nearly match it in color. Looking at him, Jean bit the back of his knuckles trying not to laugh and failed miserably. Marco's stunned expression twisted and he scowled back at him.

"Why the hell are you laughing at me?" he asked, incredulous. Jean couldn't control another wave of laughter at Marco's frustrated face.

"You're just fucking adorable, that's why."

Marco frowned at him, reaching for a roll of paper towels. "Yeah well, wasting all of this wasn't exactly adorable." He grumbled to himself for a few minutes as he dabbed at the spots on his clothes, then slid into the floor to wipe the counters and walls. He mopped up most of the spilled sauce and gave Jean an appreciative half smile for cleaning up what was left. "And now dinner is ruined, so--"

Jean tossed a soiled towel at him to interrupt and laughed when he stopped mid-sentence to grimace. "We'll go out. Go change and pick where you'd like to go. Wherever you want, remember - we're celebrating tonight."

Marco's face brightened a little, even as he pulled of his stained shirt and headed down the hallway. "Right. New house. Celebrating."

"And once we don't have a landlord anymore, you can set shit on fire and dump stuff all over the kitchen whenever you want!"

Marco laughed - maybe a little bitterly - from the other room. "Keep talking, sir. You'll be _celebrating_ on your own tonight."

Jean snickered to himself and collected the last few scattered paper towels to throw away. He was slipping a jacket on over his t-shirt when Marco returned from their bedroom a few minutes later, looking polished, pulled together and more than a little disheartened.

"You look nice" Jean said, running his hands over the corners of Marco's turned down collar. "So why the face?"

"I guess I was just looking forward to dinner at home tonight" he sighed. Jean grinned and wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing another quick kiss to the nape of his neck as they headed out the door.

"Home is anywhere, as long as I'm with you."


End file.
